


The Playhouse

by crownedcryptid



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anime, Blood, Body Horror, Gen, Gore, Horror, Torture, Twisted, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-09-30 18:33:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10169246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crownedcryptid/pseuds/crownedcryptid
Summary: Zach awakens and finds himself trapped in a human slaughter house run by a devious, ditsy girl.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written as a short horror story project for school...it's also a result of playing too much Danganronpa.

“Wait, no! Stop!” he screamed as the buzzsaw drew closer, “Let me go! Let me go!”  
What followed next was the wonderful sound of screeching and squishy, shredded skin. Blood got all over the camera so I couldn’t watch the whole thing, but the sound was enough to satisfy me.  
I picked up my clipboard and checked off Brian, I think that was his name. It doesn’t really matter. I drew a little frowny-face next to his name because he gave me a pretty typical response. Ya know just screams and a bunch of “Let me go damn it.”. How boring. When you murder someone, you don’t want them to be selfish. It’s best if the victim dies while thinking about the others they love, so they get a teensy-tiny bit of hope. I love a good “I can’t die here! Mom needs me,” or a “I have to say goodbye to my wife.” I’m getting giddy just thinking about it.  
I eagerly waited for my next victim. It took a while for one to awaken. In the meantime, I stabbed my fingertips with a pen and watched the blood drip down to my skirt. Soon enough my self-entertainment was interrupted by someone’s murmuring voice through the speakers. I looked over at my array of monitors and saw that the cutie in room 108 had woken up. I glimpsed at my checklist, room 108 is Mr. Zach. That’s strange, I drugged him quite a bit. He shouldn’t be awake now. Oh well, sometimes you have to improvise.  
I pulled up room 108 on the main monitor and moved over to my camera to begin broadcasting. Once the broadcast began, Zach looked towards his monitor with the cutest-widdle-face of fear. He might be “smiley-face” worthy.  
I greeted him cheerfully, “Hi!”  
“W-What the hell is going on here?” he shouted while starting to shiver. “Who are you?”  
“Oh you want to know who I am? Golly that’s pretty forward of you.” Of course if he willingly wants to know, then I absolutely cannot tell him, “Are you sure you want to know? That might be the very-last thing you ever learn. Wait, I lied. The last thing you ever learn will probably be how a buzzsaw grinding against your spine feels. It actually feels pretty good, it’s like a massage of paper cuts.”  
“What?!” he shouted in disgusted surprise.  
What a typical response, “You’re strapped flat against that little wooden table. So a big-bad buzzsaw is going to come down and grind you into bits!”  
“What?” he shouted in surprise, again.  
“I know right? I just used a buzzsaw on my last victim so it is kinda boring to use one again, but whatevs. To tell ya the truth, you weren’t suppose to wake up this early. I was going to play with a girl named Mandy before you.”  
“M-Mandy? You have Mandy!” he shouted with grave concern.  
“Yeah, do you know her or something?” Fun fact: he does know her, she’s his girlfriend!  
“That’s my girlfriend!” He began to struggle, “Let me out of this! I have to save her!”  
Now this is getting interesting. Mr. Zach thinks he can be a White Knight and save his darling Miss Mandy from my “maniacal” hands. I can work with this.  
“Oh yeah, she is isn’t she?” I asked teasingly, “I remember now, you guys were such a cute couple! Tell ya what, how’s about I bring Mandy in here, saw off a quarter of both of your bodies, and sew you two together. I’ll make a cute-couple-quilt!”  
“What the hell are you saying? What’s wrong with you?!” he squealed.  
Again with the “whats”, geeze.  
“Huh? You don’t like that idea?” I asked, sounding as sincere as possible. “But that way you two would be together forever. Actually, you guys would probably die from blood loss during the whole ‘sawing’ process. But you’d still die together wouldn’t ‘cha?”  
I began to think. How could I push this dork’s widdle buttons. Then another voice came through the speakers. It was a girl’s voice, and without looking at the monitor I knew exactly who it was. Room 107, Miss Mandy.  
“W-What?” she whimpered reluctantly.  
I talked to Zach again, “Oh, Zach I need to go do something else real quick. Stay there, alright? Don’t move a muscle or Mr. Buzzsaw might get angry.” I gave a cutesy wink and ended the broadcast.  
Ha, “don’t move”. It’s funny ‘cus for one thing Zach is tied down and can’t move. Also the saw doesn’t even have any motion sensors. He probably peed his pants. I almost feel bad for lying.  
Anyways, I initiated my broadcast with Mandy. Unlike Zach, Mandy wasn’t tied down at all, she was free to walk around her cramped metal room. She was knocking at the left wall when I began broadcasting.  
“Hey! Are you trying to escape?”  
She shrieked and turned towards the TV monitor.  
“You better be careful where you walk. I rigged your room with all kinds of fun stuff!”  
“W-What is this place? Who are you?” Mandy asked timidly.  
“This is my playhouse!” I shouted with glee, “We’re gonna have so much fun playing together!” I ignored her second question, for obvious reasons.  
“P-Playing?” she questioned as her knees began to wobble.  
I feigned surprise, “Oh, you’re boyfriend is here too so all three of us get to-”  
“You have Zach? Where is he? Is he safe?”  
“He’s just relaxing in his playroom; here I’ll let you see him.”  
I attempted to change feeds so Zach and Mandy could see and talk with each other. In the process I “accidentally” showed off feeds from other rooms with people I already got to play with. Mandy threw up. I laughed at her. What’s so gross about some corpses and spilled intestines?  
Finally after some button-mashing on my end, the lovebirds were able to see each other. Well, for a short while.  
“Zach!” Mandy yelled out with hope in her eyes.  
She quickly ran towards monitor to get a better look at her dearly-beloved. Tragically, on her way over she set off one of my traps.  
“Jesus!” she shrieked as a sharp metal spear flew from the wall and pierced her fragile left knee. She collapsed, the spear was halfway through her leg. She began to scream and cry with intense agony.  
“Mandy!” Zach shouted as he struggled in his ties, “Damn it! I’m gonna kill you!”  
“Kill who? Me? Yeah right, that’s impossible. You still don’t understand the situation you’re in.”  
“Mandy, sweetie,” I said with fake shyness. “If you keep crying like that you’re gonna set off my other trap.”  
Mandy continued to wail like a baby who lost it’s binky.  
“Another trap?” cried out Zach.  
“Oh, do you want to see it?” I teased, “I’ll send them out prematurely.”  
I flicked a special switch and the next trap started up. Within Mandy’s room small panels on the walls began to open, and out flew hundreds of angry bees. The bees were so annoyed with Mandy’s ear-piercing voice, they began to relentlessly sting her.  
“Oh god! No!” Zach started bawling his eyes out.  
Meanwhile, Mandy squirmed all over the floor like a toddler having a hissy-fit. Her body gradually became bloody and bloated. Suddenly she didn’t care anymore; fear had taken over. She stopped struggling and screaming, she let her horrifically painful death slowly happen. Of course it takes quite some time for lousy bee stings and bloodloss to kill you, I think Mandy realized that. She slowly moved her aching arms to try and yank the spear out of her leg. She tried really hard to get the thing out. She probably wanted to stab herself in the neck to end her meaningless life quicker. Sadly her efforts were wasted, she passed out from the pain while trying to wiggle the spear out of her fleshy cartilage. Poor little Mandy never woke up again.  
Zach continued to cry hysterically. Eventually, he was able to force out a question.  
“Why are you doing this?”  
“Why am I doing this?” Well, Zach is going to die anyways and he just watched the love-of-his-life get stung to death so, I suppose I owe him an explanation. I started to broadcast to his room again, “I’ll show you why.” I pulled out a thick hunting knife from my drawer and thrusted through my right hand. I had a completely straight face the whole time.  
“See how I didn’t react at all? This should hurt like hell, but I don’t feel a thing. I can’t feel pain. I can feel every other worthless sensation, except my favorite one. I could saw off my whole arm and you know what would happen? In an hour I would pass out from bloodloss and once I wake, my arm will be back where it was. I don’t feel a thing. Doesn’t that suck? You people are so lucky; getting to experience the blissful feeling of pain on a daily basis. I hate you all for that.”  
I yanked the knife out of my hand and left behind a moist trail of blood. Then I started to repeatedly bang my fingers against the table, being sure to break them. Once they all snapped like twigs, I began biting them with all my might, trying to pull them off completely. It’s hard to get all the fingers, especially the thumb-it’s so meaty. “Don’t worry I do this all the time,” I reassured Zach as I drooled, “Fingers are like french fries, but the ketchup is on the inside!”  
Zach watched in silent horror. Tears flowed down his eyes like a river, but he made no sound. I guess I broke him, huh? Good. It worked.  
I stopped gnawing my fingers, my pinky came off completely but the others just dangled with the bone protruding. I swallowed the flesh in my mouth and licked the layers of blood off my lips. The buzzsaw in Zach’s room started up and I watched as it ever-so-slowly slid down towards his body. I laughed almost excessively, as Zach laid there accepting his fate. I dabbed at my pinky numb with my left pointer finger and used the blood to draw a cute-widdle-heart over the camera lens.  
The last thing Zach ever saw was my smiling, heart-surrounded face. What a sight.  
Using one hand I checked Zach and Mandy off on my clipboard, and drew smiley faces. As I was looking to see who was next on the list, something dripped onto the paper. It wasn’t blood, it was something clear.  
I realized my face was soaking and my eyes began to itch. What the hell? This again? I must have some tear duct problem since this happens a lot. I pulled out an old polaroid photo from my drawer, for some reason whenever I look at this picture the tears stop. This picture has a bunch of people lined up, smiling, and wearing matching gowns. The only recognizable person in it is myself, or so I thought. Today I examined the photo more than usual and noticed beside me, a certain familiar couple holding hands. The photo is captioned, “Graduating Class”.  
Now I get it, I’m sad because all my victims have been people I know. But at the same time I’m not sad, because sadness is a painful feeling. I can’t feel pain. These people are my friends, were my friends, so why do I feel so compelled to torment them? I can’t put logic to it, I just know it feels good to watch. It makes me “sad” afterwards but as I watch their guts spill I feel euphoric. Is that euphoric feeling pain? Deep internal and emotional pain? That might be it. Maybe I can feel pain but only emotional pain. That must be the joyous feeling I experience while watching death. The pain of watching a fellow classmate die a gruesome, undeserved death.  
God, this hurts to think about. Wait, it hurts? This is pain? I can hardly differentiate it from other feelings but, I do feel something bad. I don’t think I like this feeling. Someone make it stop, please!  
I ruthlessly bashed my head against my main monitor screen. Yes, I can feel it fading away now...it’s all...fading...

I just woke up. My monitor is broken again, these things are so flimsy I really need to invest in a different brand. Huh, why’s there so much blood in here? And why’s this photo out? I wonder if someone founder their way in here and tried to beat me up. Jokes on them, I can’t die. I can’t even feel pain.  
Great now my clipboard’s drenched. I’ll have to get more paper and once I do, it’s back to work for me! Who’s next?


End file.
